


December 1st: Angel

by IneffableToreshi



Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley is a Good Boyfriend, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Protective Crowley, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Sad Aziraphale (Good Omens), Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21577027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: This is Day 1 of my Good Omens Advent Calendar for 2019, in which Christmas decorations spark Aziraphale's self-esteem issues.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550176
Comments: 14
Kudos: 142





	December 1st: Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you enjoy my Good Omens Advent Calendar! Consider it my Christmas gift to the fandom! And if you want to give me a gift in return, please leave me a comment (I live for them!) and if you're really awesome check out my other stuff by going to my blog over at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com! <3

Aziraphale slammed the bookshop door. 

Aziraphale _never_ slammed the bookshop door.

Crowley happened to have been only one aisle over, sneakily reorganizing the non-fiction section by reverse alphabetical order of the last word in each title. At the jarring crash of the door, however, he leaned warily around the the dusty tomes, an eyebrow raised. 

"Okay there angel?" he asked carefully. If Aziraphale was abusing the bookshop he had to be in one Heaven of a mood. 

Sure enough, the angel was standing just inside the entrance, lips pursed, hands clenched at his sides, looking thoroughly put-upon. At Crowley's inquiry his eyes snapped up in a rather fierce glare, but after a moment he seemed to realize who he was looking at and visibly forced his body to relax a bit. 

"Pardon my rudeness, dear," the angel sighed. "I'm just a bit annoyed is all." With that he stalked past the concerned demon, heading straight for the back room. 

Crowley watched him go for a moment before shoving the book he'd been clutching on a random shelf and giving chase. He popped in the back room just in time to catch Aziraphale pouring himself a rather generous glass of a particularly strong whiskey. 

The demon raised an eyebrow. "Everything okay there, angel?" he asked. " 'S not really like you to get into the hard stuff before noon."

Aziraphale held up a finger, took a long pull from his glass, followed by another, and then finally sank into his chair with a sigh, refilling his glass as he went. "It's nothing you need to concern yourself about, my dear," the angel insisted, smile forced. "Just a little...personal frustration is all."

Crowley frowned, eyeing his angel suspiciously.

With a casual grace that no other two-legged creature on the planet seemed to be able to accomplish, the demon sauntered over to Aziraphale, sat on the arm of his chair, and deftly plucked the whiskey glass out of the angel's hands. When Aziraphale growled and grabbed for it, Crowley waved a hand and sent the whiskey to a shelf across the room. 

"Oh really, Crowley," Aziraphale huffed. He pushed himself up to go retrieve his drink, but Crowley's long fingers pinched around his shoulders and pushed him back down. Then, before the angel could protest, the demon slithered down onto his lap, knees on either side of the angel's thighs, and pressed their heads together so that they were eye-to-eye. 

"Angel," Crowley said, voice gentle but stern. "Tell me what's wrong."

Aziraphale looked quite angry for a moment, but when Crowley removed his glasses and met the angel's eyes with his own lovely amber orbs, the angel began to melt. Eventually he sighed. The sound had none of the original anger; if anything, it sounded depressed. 

"Some of the shops on the block have Christmas decorations up," Aziraphale finally grumbled. 

Crowley blinked a few times, waiting for the rest of the required information, but none was offered. "And?" he asked. "You're not going to try to convince me that you don't like Christmas, are you?" The demon had an eyebrow raised. The two had never spent the holidays in each other's company, but Crowley had an extremely difficult time imagining that Aziraphale, of all people, would be a humbug. 

Aziraphale's lips twitched into something that almost could have been a smile, but it was only for breath of a moment and then it was gone again, "No, dear, it's just-" He bit his lip and lowered his eyes. "It's just...some of the decorations...bother me."

Crowley was thoroughly scrutinizing the angel now. With a furrowed brow he took Aziraphale's chin in his thumb and forefinger and gently forced his head back up to hold his gaze. The angel's eyes flicked away, but the demon squeezed his chin just a tiny bit and they reluctantly came back. 

"It's just- I mean-" Finally Aziraphale let out a very unbecoming growl of frustration, threw his hands in the air, and then folded them across his chest in a huff. "It's the bloody angels!" he grumbled. 

"The-?" Crowley blinked, taken aback. For a moment he thought that Aziraphale had experienced a visit from Heaven and was already preparing some not-so-righteous retribution. Then he remembered that they'd been talking about Christmas decorations, and he couldn't hold back the little flicker of a smirk that crawled across his lips. "Aziraphale, love...are you feeling threatened by the little holiday cherubs?" he teased. 

He knew he'd misstepped when Aziraphale's lip twitched and his eyes glassed over, and the demon immediately began the backpedalling. "Woah, okay, hold up," he said hurriedly, bringing both his hands up to cradle the angel's face. "Hey, I'm sorry angel, I didn't realize this was that big a deal." He stroked his thumbs tenderly across Aziraphale's cheeks. "Please tell me what's got you so upset."

It took a few long minutes during which the demon simply caressed his angel's face and waited patiently, but eventually Aziraphale heaved a shaky sigh and seemed to have gathered himself enough to speak. 

"It's stupid," he mumbled, heavy gaze drifting to settle somewhere on Crowley's chest. "I shouldn't be so upset about something so foolish, but it's just… Oh, Crowley, the stupid angel decorations just reminded me of...of what an angel should be."

Crowley's jaw twitched. Instinct had him wanting to react with demonic fury, but the hint of tears in Aziraphale's eyes had him biting back the urge. He closed his eyes, took three deep breaths, and opened them again to find the angel still staring, misty-eyed, down at the demon's black shirt. 

"Aziraphale," Crowley said, schooling his voice to be calm and quiet and gentle. "Please...please don't tell me that you're _missing_ Heaven." He was trying so hard not to sound hurt, angry, or terrified, but he felt certain that all three had managed to seep through into his tone. 

Aziraphale must have realized this as well, because a look of horror appeared on his face and he immediately uncrossed his arms in order to wrap them around his demon. "Oh darling, no, no!" he said quickly, even as a tear escaped and fell down his cheek. "No, dear, that's not it at all, I promise you!" He pressed his fingers comfortingly into the lean muscles of Crowley's lower back and begged with wide blue eyes for the demon to understand.

Crowley gave a small, short nod and struggled to reign in his own emotions while swiping away the stray tear on Aziraphale's face. "Then what is it, exactly, angel? Explain it to me." 

Warm arms squeezed tight, drawing the demon into the angel until Aziraphale's face was nuzzled beneath Crowley's chin and they were holding each other as close as physically possible. Aziraphale fisted his hands into his demon's shirt and held him desperately, as though trying to convey by contact alone how singularly necessary Crowley's presence was to him. 

"I don't want Heaven," the angel promised, his voice soft and sad. "I don't want the other angels. I don't want to be a part of that...that _institution_ any more. But-" He sighed, and felt his prior rigidity begin to melt away against the familiar, beloved being in his arms. "Seeing all those silly angel decorations in shop windows reminded me of what...what I _should_ have been. Should _be._ Humans have these lovely ideas based on the angels they've had contact with in their past...of powerful, beautiful, mysterious beings who can do no wrong, who guide humanity's destiny with infallible wisdom… And then there's _me_. A soft, thick, pathetic lump who couldn't even stand up to his peers and failed time and time again to-mmff!"

Crowley had pulled back and was glaring down at Aziraphale whilst pinching the angel's lower lip between his thumb and fingers to keep him from going any further. 

"I'm going to let go now," the demon promised, "and you're going to zip your lips and sit there and listen. Got it?"

Aziraphale tried to speak, made only a few muffled mumbling sounds, and finally nodded once. 

Crowley's fingers opened. Aziraphale pulled his head back, took a breath to speak, saw the look on the demon's face, and immediately snapped his jaw shut. 

Crowley's face softened as he reached for his angel's hands and squeezed them hard. "You are beautiful, Aziraphale, inside and out. You are strong and gentle, kind but willing to do what needs to be done. You've survived more than any other angel _or_ demon and you've done it without ever losing your faith in Her. You've done more for the humans than any other angel ever even _considered_ doing, and you did it even when they didn't deserve it. You are wonderful, Aziraphale. Ineffably amazing." A giddy, foolishly happy grin spread over the demon's face, his amber eyes shining with the utmost adoration. "You, my love, my incredible Aziraphale... _you_ are who the humans are thinking of when they imagine their beautiful, mysterious, infallible angels."

Tears streamed down Aziraphale's face. His shoulders were quivering. He tried to speak, opening and closing his mouth several times, before he finally shoved his face into Crowley's chest and let out a strangled sob that was halfway to a bark of laughter. "I-I don't deserve you, Crowley," he sniffled and smiled into the black fabric. "I r-really don't."

The demon's arms wrapped around his beautiful angel. One hand found its way up to card through soft white curls and lips came down to pepper sweet, soft kisses into those same curls. "You deserve the world and more, angel," he insisted, "and I won't stop telling you so until you believe it without question."

Aziraphale let out another of those half-sob, half-laugh sounds and pulled back only to lean up and capture Crowley in a wet, grateful kiss that had the demon grinning like an idiot. 

"Feel better now?" he asked his sniffling angel. 

Aziraphale nodded and reached up to swipe at his eyes. "How could I not, with such an incredibly sweet, gorgeous creature in my lap?" he giggled.

Crowley twisted his face into a mock-pout. " 'M not _sweet_!" he exclaimed, then lifted a hand to scruff adorably through his own hair. "The gorgeous part I'll take." He grinned at the way Aziraphale laughed and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the angel's forehead. "I think someone deserves some of those soft, chewy cranberry sugar cookies they've started selling at the cafe down the road. What do you think?"

Aziraphale met his demon's gaze with a smile of pure, unrelenting love and sent a quick prayer to thank Her for letting him have this...all he would ever truly need.

"I think that sounds positively lovely, my dear." 


End file.
